Machinations
by Misty Reeyus
Summary: "Well, I can't really blame her for thinking it was one of Kamila's contraptions. She'd never think it was actually the paradoxical magic ghost cat."


"But Moooooom, I didn't do anything!"

Jowd freezes in place at the front door as his return home is greeted by the sound of his daughter's voice ringing out: loud, and clearly aggrieved, tone somewhere between whining and yelling. His wife's voice comes soon after, quieter in volume, but also irritated and more than a bit scolding, and Jowd cautiously follows the commotion towards the kitchen.

"Now, I may not understand exactly _how_ you did it," Alma huffs as she comes into Jowd's view, "but I know I saw this bag fall from the shelf and right into your hands." She points forcefully at a yellow plastic bag resting on the dining table, and Kamila, seated in a chair before her, averts her gaze to the side. "You're really going to tell me you had _nothing_ to do with that?"

" _Yes_!"

In the kitchen doorway, Jowd winces. Oh boy.

Still, he willingly steps into the middle of the storm, letting his presence become known. "Did something happen here?"

"Oh! You're home, Dear." The angry tension in Alma's shoulders visibly goes lax at Jowd's entrance, and she slumps over, sighing with her entire body. "It's nothing. Just that Kamila won't admit she tried to sneak in a snack before dinner."

"Because I didn't," Kamila grumbles.

Alma quirks a brow. "Oh? I suppose I'm to believe the bag just fell down all on it's own, then?"

Something moves in the corner of Jowd's eye, and when he glances towards it, their black cat is sitting by his food bowl in the corner, tail swishing and fur bristling in what Jowd's pretty sure is guilt.

Well, actually…

"No, we all know how you love your contraptions," Alma continues. "Clearly, you've managed to come up with some sort of candy-flinging machine."

Kamila pouts. "But it really wasn't me! Check the shelf; there's no proof!"

"Because your proof _burns away_. Don't think I've forgotten about those magician strings of yours, young lady."

…Except those burning magician strings _do_ leave scorch marks, as Jowd knows all too well, but he quickly decides that pointing that out right now would probably only get Alma even more worked up. Instead, Jowd gently places a hand on Alma's shoulder, and shoots her a soft, sympathetic grin when she glances back at him.

"Honey," he says. "I'm the detective here. Let me?"

Alma doesn't look happy about it, but after a few moments, she nods obligingly and backs off. Even knowing fully well that he'll find nothing, Jowd goes to the snack shelf and does a cursory investigation for appearance's sake, then returns to bend down in front of Kamila, meeting her at eye level.

"I really didn't do anything," Kamila insists again, and Jowd smiles reassuringly.

"Well, since there's no evidence to be found, I'll say I believe you." Alma makes a muffled, confused noise behind him, and Jowd pointedly shoots the cat a sideways glare before glancing back up at his wife.

"Alma. As unlikely as you may think it, is it not at least _possible_ that the bag was simply unbalanced and fell all by itself?"

Alma still looks incredibly skeptical, but after a while, she concedes, "I…suppose that's not _entirely_ out of the question."

She obviously still needs some convincing, so Jowd steels his gaze and lowers his voice so that Alma knows to _listen_. "Innocent until proven guilty," he tells her almost chidingly, and can't help but think back to the incident with Yomiel. "That's how it's supposed to be, Alma."

Alma silently bites her lip as Jowd stares into her, then finally lets out a long sigh. "You're right, you're right." She turns to their daughter, and her expression softens. "I'm sorry for accusing you, Kamila."

"…It's okay, Mom. It _was_ kinda weird how it just fell all of a sudden." Kamila visibly brightens, and abruptly launches out of her chair with an eager grin. "But I couldn't have set up a candy-flinging machine! I was too busy setting up _this_!"

Kamila excitedly snatches up her mother's hand, and Alma gives a slightly startled squawk that morphs into an amused laugh as she's dragged up the stairs, presumably to bear witness to Kamila's latest invention. Once they're out of sight, Jowd lets out a sigh of relief before making a beeline towards the cat's corner. Taking the little furball up into his arms, he lifts Sissel up to his face, so that he'll be close enough to reach the core in his brain.

"Subtle, aren't you?"

 _Sorry,_ comes the sheepish telepathic response. _Kamila_ _ **really**_ _looked like she wanted a snack, and I didn't realize Alma was watching._

Jowd shakes his head. _Well, I can't really blame her for thinking it was one of Kamila's contraptions. She'd never think it was actually the paradoxical magic ghost cat._

He feels Sissel flinch. _I'll make sure not to Trick in front of her ever again. Promise._

 _I'll hold you to that. And don't spoil Kamila, either. Alma was right in that she shouldn't have sweets before dinner._

 _…Fine._ Sissel actually seems reluctant to agree to that one, and Jowd rolls his eyes.

All the weirdness of having an actual Schrodinger's cat for a pet aside, there's a real reason Sissel needs to be more careful around Alma and Kamila. They don't remember the other timeline at all, and neither of them know anything about tragic deaths or traumatic kidnappings or the power of ghost tricks. As long as Jowd can help it, it's going to stay that way.

Ignorance is bliss. The type of bliss he _wishes_ he could have for himself.

 _…Hey, Detective Jowd?_ Sissel pipes up, and Jowd abruptly realizes that they're still in the Ghost World, still mentally connected, and Sissel probably just picked up on all of that. _Are you really okay like this?_

Jowd sighs.

He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt, remembering a whole nother life and not being able to talk to his family about it. He still sometimes wakes up expecting to see the dreary ceiling of prison cell, and it slams into him like a runaway truck when he realizes he's in his own bed and Alma is warm and breathing and alive next to him. He still sometimes wakes up with gunshots ringing in his ears, and when he screams in horror and Alma startles awake, he has to bite down the bile rising in his throat as he assures her, _Just a nightmare, don't worry about it._

But right now, Alma is upstairs, clapping her hands and laughing (not lifeless and limp as he cradles her in his arms). Right now, Kamila is beside her mother, chattering loudly and probably beaming with pride (not parentless and guilt-ridden as he selfishly leaves her all alone). Right now, they're all alive and together—and right now, in his arms, Jowd has a loyal friend and faithful confidant, who has already given him an far happier ending than he ever truly deserved.

 _Of course I am,_ Jowd replies, and shifts his arms to let Sissel climb up onto his shoulder, claws digging into his jacket's thick cloth. _Now, let's head up and have a look at Kamila's newest contraption, shall we?_

 _Sure._ Sissel meows contentedly. _Wouldn't miss it._


End file.
